


Paris Honeymoon in Springtime

by Antheas_Blackberry



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Allergies, Fluff, Honeymoon, Lots of Sex, M/M, Romance, Summer Mystrade Exchange, mystrade, summer Mystrade exchange 2014, summermystradeexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2140626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antheas_Blackberry/pseuds/Antheas_Blackberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Gregory are finally married and are honeymooning in Paris.  Mycroft has promised to take care of his partner and husband no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GooberFeesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooberFeesh/gifts).



It was evening when the honeymooners arrived in Paris. The air was filled with the hint of flowers and romance. 

The hotel had a clear view of the Eiffel tower and Gregory was in awe of it. He stood on the balcony looking out upon the city and marvelling at the day that he had had. 

He could hear Mycroft bustling about in the hotel room; he could hear the clinking of glasses as he prepared them each a glass of champagne and then joined his lover, his husband on the balcony. 

Intertwining hands, they sipped champagne and looked out at the lively city below them. The quiet was refreshing after the rush of the most perfect day of their lives. 

Finally, Gregory could no longer take the burning desire coursing through his veins. He put his glass down on the small table and took Mycroft’s glass from his hand as well. 

Gregory forced Mycroft back toward the balcony railing. He started kissing his mouth, his neck, and trailed kisses down his torso, as he unbuttoned the waistcoat and shirt of his lover, licking and sucking at Mycroft’s nipples along the way. Fine wool trousers were unbuttoned and pushed down, and Gregory was pleased and excited to find his lover sans pants. Had he not been impossibly hard already, that would have pushed him to the edge.

Finally, Gregory’s hot mouth reached Mycroft’s straining cock, deliciously awaiting him, dripping with pre-come. Gregory engulfed him, and Mycroft bucked into the feel of Gregory’s moist, wet mouth. 

Mycroft moaned at the feel of his member inside of Gregory’s mouth. He could hardly keep from thrusting into those luscious lips. Gregory ran one hand up and down Mycroft’s balls, and Mycroft grabbed his other hand, as if to anchor him. It was more to keep Gregory from grabbing his own aching member, if anything else. Gregory focused all of his attention on Mycroft’s cock and balls, and then began to work his fingers toward the curve of the politician’s plush arse. Pausing a moment to lick his fingers, he slid one finger in carefully, slowly. Mycroft’s whole body reacted, tense, and then shuddered into the touch as his lover hit his prostate, which made him cry out Gregory’s name. 

Gregory could feel now that Mycroft was close, and began to focus more on engulfing Mycroft fully and did something amazing with his tongue that sent Mycroft over the edge. _“Fuck, Gregory!”_ Mycroft exclaimed as he came hard and fast into Gregory’s mouth. Hearing Mycroft cry out his name along with the rarely uttered profanity in the throes of passion, nearly made Gregory come in his trousers without any physical stimuli. And once Mycroft was spent, it only took Gregory a few quick strokes of his own to join Mycroft in post coital bliss. 

Once they were both buttoned back up into their trousers, they retrieved their glasses and headed inside. As they walked back inside to the lavish honeymoon suite, Gregory surprised them both by pausing a moment and directing a pair of harsh sneezes into a loose fist.

“My goodness, Gregory. God _bless_ you! Are you alright, my dear?” Mycroft smiled at his lover, chuckling slightly at the outburst.

Gregory gave a slight sniff and returned the smile. “Thank you, love. I’m fine,” he replied. He came up behind Mycroft and put his arms around him, pulling him toward him and kissing the back of his neck and sucking his earlobe.

They somehow managed to get to the bed, Gregory’s sneeze long forgotten. They made quick work of their remaining clothing and spent the rest of the evening exploring and touching each other’s bodies with fingers and tongues. They fell asleep, exhausted, in each other’s arms. 

 

When Mycroft woke the following morning, it was due to the burgeoning tickle deep within his sinuses. In his haste to be with Gregory last evening he had forgotten to take his antihistamine. It being the midst of spring, he should have known better than to be so careless.

Pinching his nostrils, he did his best to hold off the inevitable morning sneezes for as long as he could, not wanting to wake his beloved husband. Gregory might have found them adorable; he told him often enough, but that didn’t mean he wanted to disturb his lover’s rest. He silently stifled a pair of sneezes, but the following ones were harder to silence.

Sniffling as quietly as he could, Mycroft settled back more comfortably next to his partner. As he was doing so, there was a stirring and a mumbled voice came from the depths of the plush duvet. “G’bless,” said the sleepy voice, as he nuzzled back into the warmth of his husband. 

“Thank you my dear,” Mycroft whispered. “My apologies for waking you.” He pressed himself up the warmth of Gregory’s body, finding and kissing the shell of his lover’s ear. They stayed like that; in bed together until the need to address bodily functions was too great.

By the time they finally got out of bed, used the bathroom and Mycroft had taken his antihistamine, breakfast had been delivered up to them. While Gregory opened the French windows, Mycroft brought the trolley of food into their bedroom. 

Gregory turned and smiled at his lover and husband. He was greatly relieved to see that the British government was being more lax in his habits by allowing them to breakfast in bed. 

They feasted on freshly baked croissants, strawberries, and frothy cappuccinos. While eating they discussed the days plans to play tourist around the city given that it was a gorgeous day outside; the sunshine and delightful breeze coming through the French windows a testament to that fact. 

Gregory had barely enough time to turn his head away from Mycroft. “’Scuse me,” he said, embarrassed.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he dabbed a linen napkin at his lips, brushing away imaginary crumbs. “God _bless_ you, my dearest heart,” he said. He studied his husband, carefully looking to see if there was anything amiss. He was not going to allow anything to ruin their honeymoon. 

Gregory didn’t seem to be looking or acting unwell, so Mycroft dismissed it for the moment. He made a promise yesterday, a solemn vow to look after his darling Gregory, and he was going to do just that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Gregory have a lazy morning and have a relaxing afternoon walking along the Seine. But, is all well with Gregory?

Chapter 2

The newlywed pair finally dragged themselves out of bed and into the shower. The shower started out innocent enough, but ended with Mycroft on his knees.

Mycroft cupped Gregory’s length, reveling in how hard he was. He stroked him slowly before taking him into his mouth. Mycroft licked up and down his shaft, swirling his tongue around his lover’s length. He sucked and stroked in time, and Gregory arched his head back and moaned aloud, grasping for the wall to brace himself. His husband continued to stroke him, and his tongue swirled around his lover’s perfect cock. Blue eyes met brown, and the realization that no words needed to be spoken. There was no need; the feelings were expressed in the gazes toward one another.

Mycroft hollowed his cheeks and hummed and then Gregory was coming fast and hard down his throat. Once Gregory was back down to earth, Mycroft began to stroke himself slowly, lazily. Gregory put his hand over Mycroft’s and together they worked his member until he came over both their hands.

 

Finally clean and dressed, the two made their way out to take in a walk along the Seine before finding a quiet café in which to have lunch. They both had been to Paris before; not together however. They had planned to do some touristy things, but mostly just to spend time with one another and enjoy each other’s company. Paris was gorgeous in the spring, and there was nothing more either man wanted to do than to spend it wandering around various gardens and along the scenic river rather than visiting museums that they had both visited before. Gregory hoped that if they had a rainy day that the day would be better spent in bed exploring each other, rather than the many museums and shops of Paris.

For now the two were content to meander along the river arm in arm. Mycroft pointed out different species of flora and fauna and Gregory was once again amazed at his husband’s intellect; not just in matters of government and politics, but also in everything it seemed. Gregory smiled fondly at his husband; how hearing, thinking and saying that would never get old, he thought. 

Mycroft returned the smile. “Is everything alright, husband mine,” he asked, as they strolled arm in arm.

“I was just thinking how much I love hearing you say that, love.” Gregory gave him a broad grin and brought Mycroft’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

They eventually retraced their steps and headed to a small café where they ate macarons and drank rich, dark coffee outside in the spring sunshine.

Gregory became aware of a burgeoning tickle at the back of his nose. Annoyed, he swiped at it, doing his best to not call attention to himself or the action. He didn’t want Mycroft to worry about him, not on their honeymoon. It wasn’t going away however, so he excused himself to use the restroom. He was able to get inside the private lavatory just in time to sneeze harshly into his handkerchief. 

He blew his nose and finally was able to alleviate the persistent itch that had been plaguing him. He frowned, hoping he wasn’t coming down with something. He would never forgive himself if he came down with a cold on their honeymoon! He didn’t feel unwell; he felt on top of the world. He didn’t think that was the case, but it was worth keeping an eye on. 

Gregory made his way back to his husband, a smile on his face. As he sat back down, the tickle made it’s presence known again. His eyes fluttered shut and he saw a look of concern cross Mycroft’s face as he turned away from the younger man and sneezed as quietly as possible, muffling the pair of sneezes as much as he could; just barely able to cover his nose with his hand.

“God _bless you,_ Gregory!” Mycroft frowned and passed over a napkin to his lover.

Gregory gave him a sheepish grin. “Thanks, love,” he replied with a slight sniffle as he wiped his nose. 

Mycroft once again fretted; he was even more concerned now. That was four sneezes now, and those were just the ones he had heard. He hoped that there was nothing wrong but decided against bringing it up knowing Gregory would chide him for worrying unnecessarily. All the same, he would most certainly be bringing it up if it happened again. He would protect his husband at all costs.

Mycroft drained the remainder of his coffee and checked his watch. They had a wine tasting in a little more than an hour, and a romantic city to explore. Pushing the worries aside, Mycroft took Gregory’s hand in his and they headed from the café onwards.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newlyweds enjoy Paris and each other. ;)

Chapter 3

The wine tasting was a small, private affair. Mycroft had arranged it so that he could have Gregory all to himself (and to show off his knowledge of fine wines of course). There was a small selection of red wines, being in France of course, and the selection was limited due to the hour of the day; it still being relatively early.

They sipped the first wine in amicable silence, focusing on the taste and it’s smoothness. Gregory usually preferred a nice pint or a scotch to be honest, but since being with Mycroft he had a newfound appreciation for wines.

When Mycroft got up to fetch the second half-bottle, he wavered a moment and then paused. Gregory looked up at him quizzically. He was about to ask what was wrong when, the younger man stifled several sneezes that sounded rather painfully held back to Gregory ears.

Gregory quickly stood and joined Mycroft by the table that held the wine. “Goodness! God _bless_ you, Mycroft,” he said emphatically. “Are you alright?”

Unfortunately, for Mycroft, all he could do was sneeze again in response, pulling out his handkerchief and quickly bringing it up to cover his long nose.

“God _bless_ you again! Here, love. Come sit down,” the silver haired man said as he put an arm around his husband and led him back to his chair.

Mycroft dabbed at his nose, blushing slightly. “Thank you, my dearest heart. My apologies. I should know better to indulge in red wine at this time of year,” he said finally, grimly with a sniffle for emphasis.

Gregory tightened his arm around Mycroft, holding him tight, protectively. He hated to see his partner suffer, even if it was only something as mild as hay fever. He reluctantly loosened his grip when he realised Mycroft was trying to blow his nose. Once Mycroft had tended to his nose, he found himself engulfed once again in Gregory’s strong arms. 

After a short respite, Gregory felt that Mycroft had adequately recovered from his fit and suggested they return to the hotel, with a sly wink and a teasing leer. Mycroft, of course, found Gregory’s behaviour absolutely incorrigible. However, he allowed himself to be led out of the venue and back to the honeymoon suite at their hotel. He did love it so when Gregory was affectionate.

 

 

When they arrived back at the room, Mycroft found himself being practically thrown toward the back of the door. Gregory pushed him frantically up against the door, groin against groin, as he kissed his husband hard. Teeth against teeth, tongues mashing, Gregory could not get enough of Mycroft at this moment. Mycroft turned the tables, and pushed away from the door and the two made it without incident to the bed, clothes being shed along the way; shirts and trousers strewn across the honeymoon suite, Mycroft’s tie the only thing left on his body.

Gregory continued to kiss and touch Mycroft as he pushed his lover down on to the king sized bed, so that he was resting gently on top of him. He rocked his hips against Mycroft’s, their erections rutting against one another’s. He pulled back from the kiss long enough to watch Mycroft to open his pale eyes, filled with longing. Mycroft saw how his partner was eager with lust and intent, and pulled him down for another kiss. Mycroft was finally able to free one of his hands and reached for their erections, their cocks engorged, swollen and leaking.

Gregory fumbled about the bed searching for the lubricant. He helped his lover move further up the bed, comfortable and face up, against the pillows.

The silver haired inspector kissed a trail of tender kisses down Mycroft’s pale, freckled chest, swirling his tongue around hard nipples. One hand slowly pumped Mycroft’s leaking cock, while the other, a finger coated in lube, slowly entered him, preparing the way.

Moments later, once Gregory felt Mycroft was ready, he covered his aching member with lubrication, and slowly entered him, never breaking eye contact, never losing touch with his newly betrothed.

Gregory watched as Mycroft slowly began to lose control, such a rare and precious sight, as he bucked into his hand.

It didn’t take long until Mycroft was moaning audibly, and came hard, covering Gregory’s hand with his release. Gregory relished every moment, watching Mycroft’s actions and reactions, until he was coming in hot, wet spurts inside his lover.

They remained in bed, pressed to each other for some time, their breathing finally slowing, and their hearts beating in time with one another’s. The new husbands may have even dozed off together.

 

They finally, reluctantly pulled away from each other if for no other reason than to clean themselves up. While Gregory was in the bathroom, Mycroft placed an order for room service to be delivered, believing that they were both worn out (in a good way of course) to venture back out into the city.  
Throughout the meal and the rest of the evening, Gregory noticed that his nose was feeling increasingly stuffy and congested. He gave some weak sniffles at random intervals, but otherwise ignored it. 

They spent the remainder of the evening curled up in bed together, watching old black and white films, the French windows open due to the mildness of the evening, and a small fire crackling in the hearth.

 

 

The following morning Mycroft was woken up by Gregory trying to quietly blow his nose. He sat up quizzically and peered at his husband who was sitting at the foot of their bed. He was about to inquire after Gregory’s health, when he suddenly gasped and sneezed; his morning sneezes interrupting his train of thought.

 

Gregory turned to face his lover; his eyes red and teary, nose buried in a handful of tissues. “G’bless,” he mumbled quietly.

Mycroft blinked in alarm; he finally realised the issue. It appeared that Gregory was suffering the effects of the pollen as well. It made all added up; the random sneezing, the sniffles throughout dinner the evening before.

Mycroft sat up fully and slid down the bed to move closer to his lover. “Oh Gregory,” he began. And then suddenly his husband gasped for breath and turned his head away from him, moving quickly as possible.

 

“My goodness Gregory! God _bless_ you!” Not bothering to dress, Mycroft rose from the bed and closed the French windows, which had remained open throughout the evening. He fetched a handkerchief from the bureau, and brought it over to Gregory, a worried look on his face.

“Tha- _ahhh_ thags,” Gregory choked out, before succumbing to another set of powerful sneezes.

“God _bless_ you, again,” Mycroft said quietly, pressing the fresh handkerchief into his lover’s hands, which were cupped around his nose. “Are you quite alright, my dear,” Mycroft asked, worriedly.

Gregory nodded and blew his nose, wincing at the sound. “Thag you, love. M’sorry,” he said, sliding back along the bed and getting back under the duvet. Mycroft moved as well, joining him. 

Mycroft reached over and took Gregory’s hand in his. “My dearest heart, I am so sorry. I wish I could do more for you. I would gladly suffer even more to keep you from suffering a moment at all. When we return to London, I will make sure that the best specialists assist you. There is no need for you to suffer.” he said, squeezing his hand gently.

Gregory looked over at Mycroft in a mixture of alarm and confusion, eyebrows raised. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit? It was just a few sneezes, love.”

“Gregory! Your eyes are terribly red and irritated. You have been sneezing far more than you normally would be. You do not have an upper respiratory ailment or infection. It is clear that you are suffering from an allergic reaction to trees and flowers I would presume, and like I said there is no need for you to suffer.”

Gregory sniffed wetly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mycroft, I . . .” he began, and then paused a moment. “Love, you have hay fever and _that_ is ok, but now I may, and the world is bloody over? You’re talking about specialists and I don’t even _know_ what.” He shook his head in exasperation. 

The two sat quietly, still holding hands for a few minutes, while Mycroft processed what his husband just said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all the smut, well a bit of it

Mycroft studied their hands intently as he processed what Gregory had just said. He was ever so grateful for his husband’s silence right now as it allowed him the space he needed to gather his thoughts.

Gregory watched him quietly, while he tried to keep the tickle that was rebuilding at bay. He hated to have to bring any attention to himself right now, especially given the conversation they were in the midst of. He gave a slight sniffle, but that only intensified the sensation. With a ragged breath, he turned his head away from Mycroft and sneezed harshly.

“God bless you, Gregory,” Mycroft said quietly, concern lacing his voice.

“Thanks, love.” Gregory sniffed, a damp and liquid sound.

After a few minutes, Gregory traced his thumb across the top of Mycroft’s hand and squeezed. Mycroft gave him a gentle smile in return before he felt a tingle deep within his own sinuses. He rolled his eyes at the inopportune time for this and brought his free hand up to cover his nose. His breath hitched; a shaky intake, and then he let out a series of increasingly ticklish, stifled sneezes.

“God bless!” Gregory said emphatically as he stood up from the bed. He went over to the bureau and returned a moment later with a fresh, crisp handkerchief, which he handed to Mycroft.

Mycroft nodded his thanks and blew his stuffy nose gently before replying. “Thank you, Gregory. My apologies.” He paused, thoughtful for a moment, then turned to face Gregory who had rejoined him on the bed. “I am sorry about what I said before. I may have gotten rather ahead of myself,” he said rather reluctantly.

Gregory’s mouth twitched in a close proximity of a smile. “I know you meant well, love.”

“I would hate to have you suffer at all, my dearest heart,” Mycroft replied honestly. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on Gregory’s lips.

Gregory relaxed into the kiss, returning it. While he was eager to explore his lover’s, his husband’s mouth with his tongue, Mycroft wasn’t quite off the hook yet. He pressed his forehead against Mycroft’s and sighed. “If there is something, then we will deal with it together, calmly and rationally. There’s no need to go flying off the handle right now. We’re on our honeymoon.” He broke the contact and pulled back just enough so he could look into the lovely clear blue that was the colour of Mycroft’s eyes. Cupping his husband’s face, Gregory ran his thumb underneath his right eye, swiping away the trace amount of moisture that had gathered there, remnants of his allergic fit.

Mycroft sighed, a resigned puff of air that had him slumping his shoulders slightly. He reached up and put his hand over Gregory’s, where it still rested on his cheek. “This,” he said, “this is what I hoped to keep you from experiencing. The miserable, ticklish fits of sneezing that are practically uncontrollable, the watering eyes and dripping nose, the itching, the relentless itching that never completely goes away.” Mycroft gave a liquid sniffle as if to prove his point. He sat up so that they were still holding hands; they were just no longer pressed to his face. 

The simple touch of Gregory’s thumb had set off a chain reaction deep within Mycroft’s sinus passages, a fierce tickle that was about to bubble up to the surface. Given Gregory’s close proximity to his lover, he could see Mycroft’s nostrils flaring slightly and could hear the slight difference in his breathing pattern; little, light hitches that would have been nearly unnoticeable to anyone else.

Gregory, who was now feeling the tiniest bit guilty about his anger, reached for Mycroft’s other hand, the hand still gripping the soft cloth. He brought the cloth up to Mycroft’s rapidly twitching nostrils at the moment Mycroft needed it the most.

“God bless you, love!” Gregory pulled his hand away, allowing Mycroft the dignity of dabbing at his own nose.

“Thank you, my dear,” Mycroft said, blushing slightly. “Again, my apologies,” he said with a weak sniff. “You did not have to do that, you know.” Mycroft squeezed their still intertwined hands. He paused a moment and sniffled lightly. “It was very sweet of you.” Mycroft blushed deeper.

Gregory gave him an awkward smile and ran a hand through his still sleep-mussed silver hair. “It just felt right,” he said. “I felt bad for getting pissed off with you and I . . . wanted to comfort you.” 

“Gregory, you had every right to be angry. I was over-presumptuous and I did not take your feelings into account. You are correct; we should discuss this further once we know for sure.”

Gregory chuckled. “You know for sure, so that is good enough for me. I don’t feel that different, but then I don’t really know what to expect.”

“How are you feeling, my dearest heart? Seriously?” Mycroft asked, reaching out for his lover and pulling him close.

Gregory relaxed into the touch and settled into Mycroft’s arms. “My eyes are a bit itchy and I feel a bit stuffed up, but other than that I don’t feel any different.” He sniffed briefly, before turning his face up towards Mycroft’s, and pulled him in for a punishing kiss. 

Heat pooling in his stomach, Gregory had every intention to take Mycroft into his mouth and suck him off, hard. However, the moment he began to kiss his way south, he found Mycroft was waiting for an opportunity to turn the tables. He was flipped over and pinned down in a move that had to have been something the younger man learned in his days in the field.

They made quick work of the little clothing they were wearing and Gregory found himself moaning as Mycroft licked up his shaft, and then swallowed him down. Gregory gasped at the warm wetness that was his lover’s mouth and had to keep from bucking his hips. One hand was grasping the bed sheet, knuckles white. The other hand found its way into the soft auburn hair on Mycroft’s head.

Gregory knew he wouldn’t last long, especially once Mycroft hollowed out his cheeks and provided more suction. And then Mycroft hummed, and Gregory was coming hard in long, hot spurts.

A moment later, when Gregory opened his eyes, he found Mycroft on his knees, stroking himself. It was one of the hottest things he had ever seen, and had he not just reached orgasm, he would have come again right then.

Gregory licked his lips. “Come for me, love,” he whispered. And Mycroft did.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and a bit more

Hours later, Gregory was sitting at an outdoor café in the late afternoon sunshine. The breeze ruffled his hair; Mycroft watched him fondly from his location within the café, waiting for their coffees.

Gregory sat back comfortably, enjoying the warm sun on his face. They had spent an enjoyable afternoon sightseeing, and he was glad to be off his feet for a few. 

The sneeze had come out of nowhere, surprising him. He’d been quick enough to cover (and muffle somewhat) with his cupped hands, but only barely. A waitress passing by gave him a smile. “A vos souhaits,” she said kindly. Gregory blushed crimson and thanked her, a mumbled “merci,” that made him feel terribly awkward.

Mycroft walked over with the coffees, having witnessed the entire scene. Frowning, he hoped that his husband was ok to be sitting out of doors; he had not thought of that when he suggested a cup of coffee. Normally it was he who was making accommodations, but he did not want his love to miss a moment of the beauty of Paris, even if that meant he was slightly uncomfortable. He was brought out of his worrisome thoughts by another one of Gregory’s powerful sneezes.

 

“God bless you, my dear. Or should I say à tes amours?” Mycroft gave him a sly smile, his way of indicating that the first sneeze had not gone unnoticed (of course). He pushed a napkin towards his partner, wishing he had had the foresight to bring an additional handkerchief with him this afternoon.

“Thank you, love,” Gregory replied, the blush just finally receding from his face. He wiped his nose before taking a sip of the strong, sweet coffee and smiled. “Mmmm. This is perfect.”

Mycroft took a sip of his own, savouring the chocolate undertone of the coffee. With a discreet sniffle, he agreed. Rubbing his nose as subtly as possible, Mycroft wondered how long his mental control could hold out. They had been out and about for about three hours now, and Gregory’s random, but still frequent sneezes were not helping his cause. Each of Gregory’s sneezes made him long to be able to let go himself, to not be concerned with what was proper or making a scene. That and his nose itched terribly. He could handle the sneezing and the congestion, but the prickling, ticklish nonsense was incredibly hard to ignore.

Gregory watched his partner as he sipped his coffee. Something was up with him; Mycroft had been acting rather oddly all afternoon. He had been very quiet, controlled and reserved, which was Mycroft in a nutshell. However, this was something a bit more unusual and Gregory was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Despite the sunny afternoon, they were the only two sitting outside. Gregory took advantage of their relative privacy and leaned over to caress the side of Mycroft’s face gently with his tanned palm. “What ever is the matter, love? You’ve been quiet all afternoon.” 

Mycroft slightly shuddered from the touch, his steadfast control nearly breached by the soft touch of Gregory’s hand. The bridge of his nose crinkled slightly, and his voice caught on his next words. “I have just merely been en-ah-joying the time with you, dearest husband.” He allowed himself the slightest sniff again, and that was the catalyst. His nostrils flared and he scrabbled in his trouser pocket for his handkerchief. “My ah-apologies, Gregory,” he managed to get out before succumbing.

“Oh love. God bless you,” Gregory said softly. 

“Thank you my dearest,” Mycroft said as he dabbed at his crooked nose.

Gregory studied Mycroft a moment. He may not be a Holmes, but he did know his husband rather well by now “You’ve been holding that back all afternoon, haven’t you?”

Sipping his coffee, Mycroft nodded. “There is no reason for it to interrupt our afternoon. I merely employed some mental control.” Mycroft’s nostrils twitched visibly, and he had to forcibly restrain himself from swiping at his increasingly irritated septum. 

Gregory frowned, he could tell that Mycroft had to be suffering, even if only mildly. His own (new) condition made that clear that the pollen count was an irritation to them both. Noticing that they had both finished their coffees, he took Mycroft’s hand and kissed it. “Shall we return to the hotel, love? Maybe have a nap before dinner,” he suggested with a lewd wink. Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh as the two stood and made their way back to the hotel.

 

 

Upon entering the honeymoon suite, Mycroft was pressed up against the door and kissed within an inch of his life. Gregory couldn’t control himself; couldn’t keep his hands to himself a moment longer. He untucked Mycroft’s dress shirt, and slid his hands up inside, his hands roaming across Mycroft’s hot, freckled skin. 

Despite the kissing and tender touches, Gregory still felt that Mycroft was terribly tense. He all but dragged his lover to the bed by his silk tie. 

Mycroft sank back onto the edge of the bed and Gregory practically crawled into his lap, hips thrusting and looking for friction. The older man kissed his way down Mycroft’s face, to his ear, down his neck, until they were both panting for breath. “I want to see you come undone,” he moaned as he kissed his way back up his neck, nipping love bites along the way.

Mycroft gasped audibly; as the kissing continued, so did the search for friction. He wanted nothing more than to take Gregory into his mouth, but right now it appeared that Gregory was going to remain in charge, as his husband began to quickly undress himself. Once Gregory had removed all his clothing, he slowly began to unbutton Mycroft’s shirt, flicking teasing kisses down his chest. 

Shirt removed, he began working on Mycroft’s belt, zip and trousers; Mycroft had long since kicked off his shoes. Now clad in only his pants, Mycroft was pushed back onto the bed, and Gregory was straddling him now, stroking him through the silk cloth. 

Gregory had been watching all of his husband’s reactions, and he could tell Mycroft was still holding back. He knew Mycroft would not be able to relax until whatever irritant had been expelled, so he slid up his body, crushing his mouth to the politician’s once again. And then he began to place a series of light butterfly kisses all over his face, his eyes, his ears, his cheeks, and finally his nose. 

Mycroft startled at the kisses to his nose. Gregory knew exactly what that would do to him. 

“Relax. I need to you let go. Please, love. Come undone for me. Just let go,” he whispered, as he placed another feather-light kiss to Mycroft’s nose.

So Mycroft let go, with a series of ticklish sneezes that were very nearly overpowering, angling his head away from Gregory, and half attempted to stifle against the back of his wrist.

“God bless you,” Gregory whispered after each harsh sneeze. He then began to make his way south down Mycroft’s lean body; kissing every freckle, fingers running through the sparse but soft ginger hair, stopping to lick at each nipple, and nibble at his belly button. When he reached the waistband of his silk pants, he slid his fingers under, and quickly pushed them down and tossed them to the floor.

Mycroft’s cock twitched impatiently and beads of precome glistened in the light that fell in from the balcony, as the sun began to set. Hungrily, Gregory nearly growled at the perfect sight below him, as he swirled his tongue around Mycroft’s perfect, hard, length.

Mycroft gasped at the touch, the sensation nearly too much. Gregory had been right in freeing him from the allergic torture; had he not, he would have never been able to focus on the amazing things that his husband was doing with his tongue right now. He ran a hand through Gregory’s thick silver strands and tugged, as Gregory provided suction. He was getting closer and closer now; he could feel his orgasm racing to the surface, a hot, fiery heat from within. “Gregory,” he gasped, and he knew that his husband would know that he was close.

Gregory hummed and ran a finger along his perineum and then Mycroft was shouting and moaning something unintelligible and coming hard into his lover’s mouth.

When Mycroft finally came back into himself, he found Gregory laying beside him on the bed, stroking himself lazily, and looking like the cat that had got the cream. He was smiling and just fondly watching Mycroft “reboot.”

Mycroft returned the smile, and slowly brought his hand up, and licked his palm. Gregory shuddered in anticipation, as Mycroft placed his hand on Gregory’s throbbing length and began to stroke. It didn’t take long until Gregory was moaning and writhing on the bed, already helplessly close. He could feel his balls tighten in response, and he came in hot spurts over Mycroft’s pale hand.

Mycroft reached over for the tissues and cleaned them both up, and then managed somehow to get them both up and under the duvet together. Sated and worn out through orgasm, they clung to each other.

Mycroft placed a kiss on Gregory’s temple. “Thank you,” he whispered into the silver strands before they both dozed off.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Unbeknownst to Mycroft, Gregory had a surprise lined up. At least he hoped it would be; damned those Holmes’ and their deductive abilities!

With a slight sniffle, Gregory retrieved the hidden items from his suitcase and slipped them into his jacket pocket, hoping that they were hidden from view now. 

He was also glad the weather was still on his side. Spring sunshine filtered through the windows as he fidgeted, waiting for Mycroft to finish the call he was on. He hoped whatever it was could be resolved quickly and easily; he knew that Anthea would not have called unless it was absolutely necessary.

Sighing, Gregory turned and walked over to the windows and went out onto the balcony. He stood out there, enjoying the late morning sunshine, until he heard movement behind him. He grinned and turned around, but was caught off guard by what happened next. He made an odd face, as he were suddenly puzzled by something, and then hastily turned to the side and directed what ended up being a rather messy sneeze into his forearm.

Mycroft frowned, concerned. “Goodness! God bless you!” 

Gregory grimaced at the damp patch on his shirt and was about to apologise when the intense tickle returned causing his breath to hitch and his nostrils to flare rapidly. This time he had the presence of mind (and the luxury of time) to grab the tissue he had shoved in the pocket of his jeans earlier.

“God bless you again, Gregory!”

Gregory nodded as he gave his nose a gurgling blow. Mycroft, still frowning, took his handkerchief out and passed it over to his partner, knowing the tissue would soon become useless.

“Thags,” Gregory said, clearing his throat. He blew his nose again, more gently this time and then shook his head slightly as if to clear it.

“Sorry, love,” he said sheepishly, running a hand through his silver strands. Mycroft smiled at the action; for some reason he found Gregory rather endearing at that moment. He was so self-assured and confident and didn’t spend so much time being restrained and worrying about appearances like he did on a daily basis. He couldn’t even think about sneezing without worrying about the consequences; heaven forbid someone other than Anthea or Gregory (and he supposed- Sherlock) heard him do anything but stifle, if that.

Mycroft forced his berating and self-depreciating monologue into the background and focused on the man in front of him. He gave him a quick but thorough assessment; his partner was finding the irritation annoying, but wasn’t bothered by it in the least. Mycroft made a mental note to supply him with an antihistamine before they left. There was something else, something he couldn’t quite place.

Gregory smiled at Mycroft, watching his expression change once their eyes met. He reached out and took Mycroft’s hand, and led him toward the door. 

“Where are we going, dearest?”

“Somewhere special,” Gregory replied with a grin that lit up his face, his deep brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mycroft was led through the streets of Paris, and then past Notre Dame. To be honest, he had no idea where they were headed. Part of him was curious, but the other part of his mind was occupied by employing mental control over his nasal passages at the moment. The fresh spring air, combined with the abundant sunshine, and subsequent pollen in the air was a recipe for disaster for the British government. He had been on the very precipice of a sneezing fit for a good twenty minutes now, and he was not sure how much longer he could hold on. He normally had excellent control, but he normally had to employ it while dealing with mental tasks, not being led through Paris, walking, dodging pedestrians, and wondering where on earth his Gregory was taking him.

Once they reached the Seine, he knew there was no chance of stopping the expulsions. He paused to look out over the river, and Gregory, hand in hand with him also stopped, a confused look on his face. “Love?” Gregory asked, wondering.

“Ah apologies. I have to ah heh sneeze,” Mycroft was able to somehow gasp out in between heaving, hitching breaths.

The sneezes tumbled out quickly and Mycroft was just able to turn and face the river, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible as he stifled the expulsions.

“God bless you!” Gregory said, reaching up wiping an allergic tear that was threatening to slip down Mycroft’s cheek. “Alright?” He asked.

Mycroft sniffled, rubbing his itchy nose. “Yes, thank you my dear.” He paused a moment. “Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“Nope,” Gregory said with a cheeky grin. He took Mycroft’s hand again. “We’re almost there.”

They walked, enjoying the weather for a few more minutes, until they came to a bridge. The bridge was covered in locks of varying sizes and colours, and the entire length was cornered off by crime scene tape. There were two chairs set up, and next to them was a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice along with two glasses.

Mycroft looked a mixture of shocked, amused, and confused. Gregory grinned at him, knowing that his surprise was indeed a surprise. 

“They don’t really want people adding locks to the bridge anymore, something about structural integrity. But I have friends in high places,” the silver haired DI said, winking cheekily at Mycroft. He removed the locks from his pocket and handed them to Mycroft. They had been engraved with their initials and the date of their wedding. 

Mycroft’s expression was unreadable for a moment, and then he broke out in an enormous grin. “Gregory, this is incredible. Simply incredible,” he said looking at the silver locks. He blinked back the sudden prickling he felt in his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Shall we, my dearest heart?”

The two sat down and enjoyed the champagne and the view. Gregory explained how he was able to arrange this “private viewing,” by liaising with a contact in the Gendarmarie Nationale. 

Mycroft smiled and sipped his champagne. “You always manage to surprise me, my dearest heart. I look forward to showing you my appreciation as soon as possible,” he said with a sly smile.

Gregory tossed his head back and laughed heartily. He loved Mycroft so much it hurt sometimes. He still couldn’t believe that they were here together in Paris, married. And he most certainly couldn’t wait to find out what his partner had in store for showing his appreciation.

For now, he was content to drink champagne, hand in hand with his husband, and watch the small boats float down the Seine.

 


	7. Chapter 7

As much as they were enjoying themselves drinking champagne and watching the boats and the people, it became more and more clear as time passed that Gregory was really starting to suffer from the airborne allergen. His liquid sniffles were becoming far more common, as he valiantly fought to keep the moisture confined within his frequently twitching nostrils. He kept insisting he was fine, until an explosive sneeze into the increasingly damp handkerchief made him rethink his position. 

“Good heavens, Gregory! God bless you! I have done nothing but enjoy our time today, but I think that we need to get you back to the hotel.”

Snuffling within the confines of the damp cloth, he had no choice but to agree.

 

Gregory sniffled and sneezed his way back to the hotel. He managed to be as restrained as possible, given that he was sure he was beginning to look and sound a bit of a mess. He was terribly thankful to be back within the confines of their hotel room. 

He sank down on the bed with a deep sigh; Mycroft studied him with a frown. Gregory’s eyes were red and watery, and his nose wasn’t looking much better. It was pink at the tip, and moisture shone within his nostrils, which were trembling and twitching. Understanding the signs, Mycroft fetched the box of tissues and placed them within Gregory’s reach and then went about filling a glass of water and retrieving an antihistamine. 

Gregory was stuck in a bout of sneezy limbo; his head was tipped back and his nostrils were fluttering. He was gasping out little breaths, soft puffs of air that he thought sounded rather ridiculous. He reached out for the tissues and pressed them to his nose, in anticipation of the inevitable release.

“God bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft placed the pill and water down next to him.

Gregory nodded, but he hadn’t moved the tissues away from his nose yet. His breath was still coming in rapid, breathy pants. “It’s heh stu-uh-ck,” he managed to gasp out. 

Fretting, Mycroft wished he could do something, instead of just sitting there and wishing he was the one who was suffering. He was so used to the sneezing and sniffling, that it wouldn’t be a bother at all for him. Watching his husband’s face twisted in sneezy anticipation, he thought about employing one of the more useful tricks he had picked up over the years in dealing with such occurrences. A heaving, shuddering gasp from Gregory changed his mind.

“God bless you again!”

Nodding, Gregory gave his nose a gurgling, yet thorough blow, pausing only to grab more tissues. He wiped his streaming eyes and sniffed, completely and utterly worn out. Seeing the pill and water, he swallowed it down with a resigned sigh. 

Mycroft began to undress, and Gregory gave him a questioning look. “We both need to remove the pollen from our clothing and hair. And then I believe you need a bit of a nap, my dearest heart.”

Gregory drained the glass of water and nodded, dragging himself to his feet, and shedding his clothes. He followed Mycroft to the large shower in their ensuite.

Mycroft efficiently washed both of them and then studied Gregory thoughtfully for a moment. Whatever he deduced must have been something good, because next thing the silver haired man saw was Mycroft down on his knees, auburn hair plastered to his head, pupils wide with lust.

“I believe I said something about showing you my appreciation, Gregory,” Mycroft all but purred as he licked down the length of Gregory’s shaft, which rapidly hardened under his ministrations.

“Fuck,” Gregory gasped, and braced himself on the wall of the shower. 

Mycroft was exceptionally skilled with his tongue, and this time was no exception. He began to slowly suck and hum, knowing how much his husband enjoyed the dual sensations. He peeked up through his eyelashes to see Gregory braced on the shower wall, a blissful look across his face. Mycroft smiled as he put his hand around the base of his lover’s thick cock, alternating slow strokes with his tongue. 

Mycroft clicked open the bottle of lube he had brought with him and looked up at Gregory. His brown eyes were wide with desire. The younger man took that as an invitation.

Mycroft began to apply pressure to Gregory’s entrance, while he slowly brought him undone with his tongue. Gregory gave out a throaty moan as he tipped his head back, overwhelmed with the various sensations. The moment Mycroft’s long, manicured fingers located his prostate, Gregory came with a hoarse shout, and had he been able, he would have come again watching Mycroft swallow every bit down.

Gregory was now utterly done in; Mycroft saw this, and bundled him up into a towel and led him out to their bed. He gently, tenderly dried him off, and then helped Gregory up against the headboard. 

“Do you want me to . . .” Gregory asked suggestively?

Mycroft shook his head. “This was all about you, my dearest heart.”

Gregory smiled fondly at his husband as he watched him towel dry his hair. He was taken aback a moment, when a strange look crossed Mycroft’s face for a fleeting second. He was about to ask what was wrong, when Mycroft’s breath hitched audibly and he gave in to a ticklish fit of sneezes.

“God bless you, love!”

“Thank you, my dear. Apologies,” he said, hanging up the towels neatly before joining his husband in their honeymoon bed. 

Gregory yawned noisily and draped his arm around Mycroft, pulling him close. He placed a gentle kiss on his lover’s head before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

When Gregory woke from his nap, he felt far less congested. However, on the downside, his nose was terribly itchy. He wasn’t sure how he could describe it as anything less than hundreds of ants parading around in his nostrils and sinus cavity. When he was a child, he had unearthed an anthill and the ants had crawled all over his arms and legs. This is what it felt like right now, within his beleaguered sinuses. It was unpleasant, to say the least.

He was about to reach for the tissues to blow his nose when a pair of heady, thick, and ticklish sneezes overpowered him. With every sneeze he felt like the contents of his sinus passages were shifting.

Cringing in disgust, Gregory blew his nose.

Mycroft came in from the ensuite where he had been checking to see if any new freckles had emerged due to their time spent out in the sunshine. (He had three new ones and those were the ones that were VISIBLE! He was positively volatile.) 

“Good heavens, Gregory. God bless you!”

He frowned at his husband’s appearance; it seemed that the nap had done little good, as he still looked tired and red-eyed. 

Gregory sniffed and rubbed his still ticklish nose. “Thanks, love.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, as he looked Gregory over more intently. “Are you not feeling any better, my dear?”

“It’s not that I feel unwell, it’s just this bloody tickle. It’s driving me crazy,” he said with a liquid sniffle. He scrubbed at his nose again, pinching his nostrils and massaging them to see if that would help alleviate the irritation. 

Seconds later, he took a heaving breath as the muscles in his face went slack and his eyes fluttered closed. 

Gregory sneezed wetly into his hands that he had just been able to cup around his nose. Carefully, he reached for another handful of tissues and blew his nose once again.

“God bless you again, Gregory.” Mycroft said. “Would you rather stay in for dinner?”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “It’s our last night in Paris, Mycroft. I plan on making it a night to remember,” he said with a wink and a leer as he headed to the closet to select suitable dinner attire.

Mycroft’s lips may have twitched in a semblance of a grin.

 

The newlyweds went off to enjoy their final dinner in Paris. Gregory managed to hold back the persistent tickle but still found himself severely muffling a sneeze just before dessert. It was a very enjoyable repast, and the pair may have consumed a bit too much wine.

With a fair amount of giggles, the two managed to get back to the honeymoon suite. Gregory flopped back on to the bed, rubbing his nose. The tickle was doing his head in! Sniffling, he propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Mycroft poured them each another drink. Slowly, his head tipped back; he could feel the sneeze approaching rapidly. And then he was left with nothing but a prickle, a constant niggling at the back of his sinuses. 

This went on for a few minutes, and Gregory found himself siting up fully as he continued to be denied the release he so desired. He rubbed his nose harshly. “This is ahh hehhh ridiculous,” he managed to get out, gasping in between hitching breaths and countless false starts. Mycroft had joined him on the bed and sat there frowning at his husband’s predicament. 

“Please allow me to assist you, Gregory,” Mycroft said softly.

Gregory looked over at his partner. Those words shouldn’t have been so erotic, but they were. He could feel himself hardening in his trousers, and he urgently craved release, in more ways than one. Desperate, he nodded.

Mycroft straddled Gregory’s legs, so that his knees were on either side of his partner’s thighs. He looked into those deep chocolate brown eyes and saw no trace of worry, only desire. Very gently, he traced the nail of his neatly manicured index finger down Gregory’s septum.

Gregory reared back and his breath hitched violently. He gasped and his eyes watered, but still no release. He sniffled wetly, a liquid sound that had Mycroft pressing a clean handkerchief into his lover’s hand.

Mycroft repeated the same action, only this time he also blew softly on Gregory’s twitching and flaring nostrils. Gregory gasped for breath helplessly, his eyes tearing of their own volition. He quickly turned his head to the side as his eyes drooped shut. He pressed the cloth to his reddened nostrils as he gave a final ragged breath.

“God bless you, my dear!”

Gregory remained still for a moment, as if to make sure no more sneezes were about to escape. Nodding, he blew his nose- a gurgling blow that had him grimacing in revulsion. 

“Thank you, love.” Gregory gave his nose a final wipe and cautiously sniffed. 

“Feeling better?” Mycroft inquired.

Grinning, Gregory nodded. “Now, there’s just one more thing that needs attending to,” he said gently, pressing his erection into Mycroft’s thigh. He reached out and put his hand behind Mycroft’s neck and pulled him in for a tender kiss.

It didn’t take long for things to become heated. Gregory was practically rutting up into Mycroft’s palm, his thigh. And Mycroft couldn’t get enough of his husband’s lips on his body.

Soon they were free from the cumbersome clothing and their hands and lips had free reign over each other’s bodies. While Gregory had originally intended to take things slow and make Mycroft beg, right now all he could think about was getting off. He was hard, embarrassingly, achingly hard, and he wanted nothing more to come all over Mycroft, marking him as his.

He had Mycroft pinned down on his back. Hovering over his lean body, Gregory took himself in hand and stroked faster and faster. He desperately wanted, needed to come. He bit down on his lower lip, whimpering.

Mycroft could feel, taste his desire. He watched the expressions change on Gregory’s face, and he wanted it too. He managed to manoeuvre himself so that his cock was lined up with Gregory’s. He took Gregory’s hand in his and put both their hands around each of their members so they could rut and stroke each other to completion. Their eyes met, and Gregory moved closer again so he could kiss Mycroft. The kiss was very nearly as intense as the orgasm that ripped through Gregory, and he came all over Mycroft’s chest. Barely a moment later, Mycroft gasped softly as he reached his own climax.

Gregory was very lucky that Mycroft was so fastidious in his habits. There was absolutely no way he was moving after that orgasm. Smiling serenely at his husband, he placed a soft kiss on his lips before the younger of the two moved to get a wet flannel to clean them off with.

Gregory then pulled them down under the duvet where they exchanged gentle, unhurried kisses and light caresses as the city slumbered around them.


	9. Chapter 9

Gregory was dreaming. He and Mycroft were on a beach; the sand and sun were hot. He could feel the heat on his skin. It was intoxicating. He thought he could hear the sound of the waves crashing on the beach, but it was too faint, too soft, and too irregular.

He awoke a few seconds later, confused and disoriented. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes and finally was able to focus on his partner who was sneezing rapidly into what looked like a handful of well-used tissues.

“G’bless,” Gregory murmured sleepily, his voice hoarse from disuse. He reached up and gently brushed back the lock of hair that had come loose over Mycroft’s forehead. 

“Mmm. Thag you my dear. My apologies for disturbing your sleep,” he said stuffily. Mycroft’s congested voice made Gregory wonder how long his husband had been awake and suffering. 

“S’alright. I was dreaming that we were naked on a beach,” Gregory remarked as he stretched his tanned body out under the duvet, working out the kinks that had developed while he slept. 

Mycroft scoffed. As if he would be found naked on a beach! Not very bloody likely considering how easily he freckled. He was still not pleased about the freckles from yesterday. He blew his nose gently as he dismissed the notion.

Tossing the tissues aside, he gave his new husband an approving look. He crawled the short space between them, and straddled Gregory, who quickly pulled him down into a punishing kiss; their lips meeting heatedly and tongues fighting for control. 

Gregory pulled off Mycroft’s dressing gown, and pushed the duvet down so that their naked bodies could meet. Mycroft began to kiss his way down Gregory’s body, savouring the soft skin and the hard muscle. 

“Mmmm. Love you,” Gregory murmured as he kissed his husband. “Need you, love. I need you.”

Mycroft moaned softly in response and wrapped his hand around Gregory’s shaft. With his other, he searched out the lube that they had stashed under the pillows. Once he had a few slicked fingers, he began to slowly work Gregory open. He still continued to stroke Gregory lazily, while Gregory explored every inch of Mycroft’s body that he could reach with his hands and his lips without interfering with the ministrations of Mycroft’s skilled hands.

Touches were exchanged and moans were gasped out as Mycroft’s long, elegant fingers worked their way inside his lover. Soon, his fingers were replaced by a different appendage all together. They moved together slowly, drawing out the lovemaking for as long as possible. Gregory’s nails left marks down Mycroft’s back as he dug them in and Mycroft sucked a love bite into his partner’s shoulder as he shuddered his release. Gregory came shortly after, both their hands intertwined around his cock.

Panting, Mycroft fell back onto the bed and Gregory somehow found the energy to pull the duvet up over them, caring little about the mess. He reached for Mycroft’s hand so he could admire their wedding rings together. They exchanged playful kisses, enjoying each other’s presence as they came down from their orgasms.

Gregory caressed the side of Mycroft’s face and placed delicate butterfly kisses across his cheeks and nose, completely forgetting the consequence of such actions until the younger man flinched and quickly pulled out of the embrace, stifling a fit of increasingly itchy-sounding sneezes.

“God bless you, love! I’m so sorry!” Gregory reached over for the tissues and pressed a handful of them into Mycroft’s hands, which were now cupped around his nose. He fretted, feeling terrible to cause his husband any additional suffering. The last thing he wanted to do was add to the fittish sneezes brought on by his lover’s unrelenting hayfever.

Mycroft gave several careful blows and wiped at an allergic tear that had made its way down its cheek. “Thank you, my dearest heart.” He gave Gregory a fond smile, knowing that there had been no malice behind his actions. They snuggled back down under the duvet, both reluctant for the honeymoon to come to an end. 

Gregory turned so he could look into Mycroft’s eyes. He smiled, knowing that everything he was feeling in that moment was being felt by Mycroft as well. 

Finally, after they spent a few more minutes sharing kisses, they rose and took turns showering, knowing there would be more of a delay if they were to shower together. 

Both reluctant for their honeymoon to come to an end, they took their time finishing their packing, pausing to press gentle kisses or caresses when they passed each other in the room.

Suitcases finally packed and sent off ahead of them to the airport, the two made their way outside to spend their final hours in Paris. After a moment outside in the sunshine, Gregory gave a giant, heaving gasp and sneezed harshly.

“God bless you, Gregory!” Mycroft looked over at his husband and went to take his hand in his. Before he could do so, Gregory’s breath was hitching again; his nostrils flaring and head thrown back as he waited for the harsh expulsion.

“Good heavens, Gregory! God bless you again!” Mycroft pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Gregory, frowning in concern. 

“Thanks, love,” Gregory said, sheepishly. “Sorry.” He waved away the offer of the cloth; he was fine. And he didn’t want to take it away from Mycroft knowing full well that the younger man would most likely need it more than him, and sooner than later. 

After returning the cloth to his pocket, Mycroft took his hand and kissed it. “You are welcome, my dear. Are you quite alright?” Nodding, Gregory squeezed their joined hands as they headed for their final meal in Paris. 

They ate flaky, warm croissants and drank strong coffee at a small café along the Seine in the spring sunshine. Mycroft took his time, picking little bites from his decadent croissant and eating them fussily while Gregory enjoyed his in a hearty manner. 

Mycroft smiled over his coffee, his hands steepled around the mug. He had leaned forward a bit to watch over his husband as he enjoyed his breakfast.

He could feel a tickle brewing deep within his sinuses. Mycroft mentally gave an eyeroll and prepared for the inevitable, moving his hands from around his cup to around his nose. With a hitching breath, he gave in stifling a string of hitching sneezes.

“God bless you, love,” Gregory said emphatically, as he finished the last of his croissant. He offered his unused napkin to Mycroft, who politely declined with a slight shake of his head. The younger man had already begun to reach for his handkerchief. Mycroft gave his nose a cautious blow, not wanting to set off his ticklish nasal passages. He was frustrated to find how much congestion was present so early in the day and made a mental note to take a decongestant before boarding the plane to London. 

“Thank you my dear.” Mycroft smiled at his husband, admiring how the sunlight illuminated his gorgeous, thick grey hair. “I hate for this time to come to an end.”

Gregory smiled fondly in return at Mycroft. “Well,” he said, chuckling. “We’ll always have Paris.”


	10. Epilogue

After a long day back at New Scotland Yard, Gregory stopped to pick up soup. After placing the soup inside his car, he paused to look at the view of the London Eye, lighting up the night sky. 

With a sigh, he removed his handkerchief from pocket; a habit he had only gotten into because of Mycroft’s unpredictable nose. Gregory gave his irritated nostrils angry swipe. With a rough cough, he got into the car and headed home to face the proverbial guillotine.

 

When he got home, he found Mycroft bundled under a mound of blankets in the sitting room in front of a roaring fire. He had a steaming mug of tea in his hands. There was a half-empty tissue box on the coffee table and tissues nearly overflowing from the bin in front of him. 

The younger man looked up wearily as Gregory came in. The DI could see that Mycroft’s appearance had not improved since this morning. There were dark circles under his eyes and his nose was chapped and red. “Good ebedig, Gregory,” he said. 

Gregory frowned. His husband sounded terrible and was still clearly affected by the terrible cold he had come down with shortly after arriving home from their honeymoon. “Feeling any better, love?”

“Barg- hhhheh –bargidally. Ahhhh- -apologies,” he said airily, breath hitching. Mycroft quickly grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed them to his nose, nostrils flaring.

“God bless you, love! You still sound pretty rough,” Gregory said. He cleared his throat softly. “I brought some soup.”

Mycroft nodded, his nose still buried within the tissues. He wasn’t especially hungry, but he knew soup would be nourishing nonetheless.

Gregory headed into the kitchen to fetch bowls and spoons. He directed a harsh cough into his shoulder as he headed back out to Mycroft, hoping he wasn’t heard.

He doled out the soup, and sank back onto the couch, keeping a cautious eye on his lover. He sniffled, the heat of the soup causing his nose to run. Mycroft was in a similar predicament, and pushed the box of tissues in Gregory’s direction after plucking a few more for himself. Gregory wiped his nose, glad for the soup’s convenient cover. 

After a few minutes, their bowls were emptied. Gregory put his down on the coffee table and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. He folded his hands across his stomach, yawning. He was truly exhausted. 

Mycroft gave a weak cough and blew his nose. “Whed were you goig to tell be that you have cobe down with this illdess as well, Gregory?” Mycroft rubbed gentle circles around his septum, as if he were trying to alleviate an itch.

“I was hoping it was nothing,” Gregory said, sniffling. 

Mycroft gave him a cross look, unbelieving, before succumbing to another set of desperate, ticklish sneezes.

“God bless you again, love,” Gregory said, sighing. He should have known that despite his illness that Mycroft would see right though him. He then quickly turned his head to the side, his own breath hitching audibly.

“And God bless you, by dear,” Mycroft croaked out. He handed the last of the tissues to his partner. 

Gregory nodded his thanks and blew his nose. He felt terribly weary but forced himself up. He gathered the bowls and cups and brought them into the kitchen, placing them in the dishwasher. He then fetched two water bottles from the refrigerator and grabbed another box of tissues from the cupboard.

He returned to the sitting room. He found Mycroft in a familiar predicament; nose buried in the last of the tissues, sneezing exhaustedly, hardly able to hold them back at this point.

“Jesus, Mycroft! God bless you!” Gregory frowned. He hated seeing Mycroft so ill, so worn out. He knew that if Mycroft wasn’t sounding any better tomorrow he would need to place a call to John. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, that it was just a nasty cold and not a sinus infection brewing. “Come on, love. Let’s go to bed,” he said.

Mycroft nodded and wearily pulled himself up off the couch and toward the stairs. Halfway up, Gregory paused, sneezing wetly into a hastily made loose fist, the other hand bracing himself on the banister. 

Despite his own illness, he felt Mycroft’s warm hand on his back, steadying him, reassuring. “God bless you, Gregory,” Mycroft said hoarsely. “Do not worry by dear. I will take care of you.” He kept his hand there, a comforting presence as they continued up the stairs to their bedroom.

“In sickness and in health?” Gregory quipped. 

That earned him a playful swat on his backside; a promise for a later time when they were both feeling better. In the meantime it would be Night Nurse, tea, and cuddles under the warm duvet. Married life had its positives, you know, Gregory thought as he placed a kiss on his husband’s forehead as they headed off to bed.


End file.
